A Mole, A Mobster, and Murder
by DragonLadie
Summary: On one hand, they paid well.  On the other hand, if he solved the case, someone could end up dead.  On the other, other hand, if he refused, HE could end up dead.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A Mole, A Mobster, and Murder

by dragonnan

_**Santa Barbara**_

_**1985**_

_Shawn swallowed nervously, glancing up every now and then to see faces leering at him from behind a row of bars. _

_At his side, his father stood, talking to another cop, who was twirling a set of keys in his hand._

"_Caught him red-handed. Apparently he's been doing this for about a year." Said Henry, looking down at his son with a scowl._

_The cop with the keys stopped twirling them; also looking down at the small boy who stood shivering next to his father._

"_You know," He said softly, "forging someone's signature is a misdemeanor. It can mean up to a year in jail." _

_Shawn gasped, then looked up quickly as he felt his father's hand drop heavily onto his shoulder. "Last chance kid. I have to follow the rules just like everyone else. Anything you want to say before it's too late?"_

_Swallowing, the boy lowered his head. "I'm sorry dad, I did it."_

_His father crossed his arms sternly. "I know you did it Shawn. What I want to hear is what you plan on doing to rectify this."_

_Wincing, Shawn ran a hand through his hair. "Well… uuum…" At the sound of the keys jingling in the other officer's hands, Shawn raised his head. "I'll confess to the teachers."_

_Henry tilted his head back. "And?"_

"_And to Mrs. Jackowitz."_

_Shawn's father lifted his head, looking at the other cop. "His piano teacher." Looking back at Shawn, Henry tilted his head. "You're also grounded."_

_It wasn't unexpected, so Shawn just sighed. "How long?"_

"_A year."_

"_A YEAR??? Daad..!"_

"_I'll think about cutting it down, but only on very good behavior."_

_Shawn gritted his teeth. For the record, today was the suckiest day of his entire life._

* * *

**Santa Barbara**

**Present day**

He didn't know what woke him. However, as he sat up, he could feel the hairs on his arms rise. Gripping the covers of his bed tightly, Shawn resisted the urge to duck beneath them and hide. Although, he amended as he heard a muffled crash, hiding wasn't such a bad option just then. Working his jaw tightly, he reached over to the table next to his bed, fumbling around to find a weapon…. Or maybe just his phone. Unfortunately, the closest thing he could find to a defensive tool was a fork, slightly crusted with the remains of a TV dinner. Brandishing this miniscule defense, Shawn cautiously slid from the bed. He could hear more sounds now; someone was definitely doing something beyond his bedroom door. Edging closer to the wall, he swallowed thickly, fighting down the urge to return to the safety of his bed. Seconds later, his hand was on the doorknob, and he slowly eased it open. The room beyond was just as dark as his bedroom. Whoever had broken in was apparently trying to ransack the place without the help of a flashlight. It could explain the smashing sound he'd heard earlier

Or, he thought with a grimace, they weren't actually here to rob him. The feel of something cold and hard pressed between his shoulder blades seemed to support that theory.

"Dude, if you wanted my Hulk PJs, you only had to ask." The object in his back pressed harder, and Shawn automatically held his hands up. "I gotta warn you though, if you put any holes in them, the resale is gonna, like, totally suck."

The pressure in his back suddenly released. Before Shawn could decide if that was a good or bad development, however, something smashed into the back of his head.

As his knees hit the floor, Shawn's last conscious thought was that Gus was right; sometimes he did talk too much.

"…old you not to harm him!"

"I'm sorry, I acted rashly."

"We'll discuss this later. It appears you didn't damage him permanently."

Shawn blinked slowly, his eyes fighting to adjust to the brightness. After a moment, the light suddenly decreased, and he was able to focus on his surroundings.

"Mr. Spencer, I'm glad to see you've joined us at last. I do apologize for my colleague; he's a little… enthusiastic… in his work."

Turning his head towards the voice, Shawn realized he was lying on a fairly comfortable love seat. The man who had just spoken to him, an older man with elegantly graying hair and sharp amber eyes, smiled benignly as Shawn sat up. Slowly rubbing at the back of his head, Shawn examined his surroundings. The room he was in was well furnished. The walls were paneled in dark-stained wood, and covered with various paintings and photos. A large desk took up a large part of the back wall. It was nicely crafted and stained dark like the walls. On it, Shawn could make out a laptop, some more framed pictures, and what looked like a cigar box. Glancing to the left, he saw the other man who had spoken earlier. He wasn't smiling. Though not currently holding a weapon, his hand was resting on his belt, close to his handgun. Turning his eyes back to his captor, Shawn suddenly yawned. "Uuuh.. sorry about that. For some reason, I just don't sleep as well when the back of my head is caved in."

The smiling man leaned back with a chuckle. "So, though you're a psychic, you're telling me you didn't see this coming?"

Shawn cracked his neck, then folded his hands between his knees. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've heard that." The other man regarded him skeptically, and in a moment, Shawn knew why he was there. If this was a kidnapping, he'd be tied up in a closet. If it was a hit, he'd be dead. However, considering he was still unshot and untied... that left only one other possibility.

Gasping suddenly, he pressed the fingers of his right hand against his temple. "Wait, something…. Something is here.." Jerking his torso, he lurched to his feet, peripherally aware that the unsmiling guy had drawn his gun. Continuously, Shawn made sure to flail away from the older man before him, not wanting itchy trigger finger to find a reason to shoot him.

"Gaaaahh… it's an animal…. furry… a rabbit, no…. squirrel…" He stumbled to the desk, his hands skating over the cigar box, the computer, and other various desk paraphernalia. Then he stopped, his hand extended over a gold pen set. Reaching out, he gripped the pen in his fist. Snarling dramatically, he began drawing jerkily on the first surface he came in contact with… which turned out to be the leather desk blotter. With a flourish, he completed scribbling. Gasping, he opened his eyes wide, dropping the pen as though it had burned him. Breathing heavily, he finally turned back to the other men in the room. The older man was looking at him bemusedly, while gun-boy stood a little further back, weapon still trained in Shawn's general direction. After a few moments of silence, the older man walked forward, followed closely by the goon. While his employer leaned over to examine Shawn's creation, the other man forced Shawn to back away towards the wall. Hands raised in compliance, Shawn tried to peer around the weapon held so prominently in his line of sight. The first man had his hands behind his back as he studied the drawing. Finally, he straightened, turning around to face Shawn with that same bemused expression.

"That was a four hundred dollar blotter you know."

Shawn smiled weakly, managing a small shrug. "When the spirits lead, I am but an unknowing vessel."

The man smiled. "Do you even know who I am son?"

Shawn tilted his head to the side. "You are Alexander Dale Hutchins, CEO of Vista Limited. You have a reputation as a surface businessman with alleged ties to organized crime. You were once brought up on charges for the attempted murder of Marissa Larkin, your ex wife. However, charges were dropped when witnessed refused to testify. You are also a fan of purple ties and chocolate covered pistachios."

Hutchins paused for just a moment. Then, his jaw dropped and he bellowed with laughter. Shaking his head, he slugged Shawn in the arm. "Is this more insight from your spirits I'm hearing?" He asked, still chuckling.

"Actually, I got most of it from the business cards on your desk. The rest I got from my dad." He said, rubbing his sore arm.

"Of course, Henry. How's retirement…. still spending most of his time on the water?"

Shawn stopped massaging his bicep to stare at the other man. "And you know my father why?"

Instead of answering, Hutchins turned back to the desk blotter. "Care to tell me what this is?" Shawn glanced at gun-boy, and Hutchins held up his hand. "It's fine, Brody, he's no threat."

Reluctance clearly shining from his eyes, Brody returned his gun to its holster. However, his stance remained rigid as he followed Shawn to the desk. Peering down at his own work, Shawn cleared his throat, mentally donning his psychic persona. However before he could even speak, Brody sidled up next to him, staring at the blotter.

"It looks like a beaver."

Shawn frowned, looking from Brody to the drawing. "You think? I was thinking more of a… I don't know… 'digging' animal of some sort."

Hutchins leaned crossed his arms. "I believe it's supposed to be a mole Brody." He rubbed at the pen lines a little, then gave up when they started to smear. "A shame these spirits of yours aren't better artists… I could have at least turned this into a wall hanging."

Brody's eyes swiveled to Shawn. "Aren't moles more like 'burrowers' than diggers?"

Hutchins walked past the two men. "That really isn't the point, Brody. What Mr. Spencer is saying is that we have a leak in our company. Which is why I had you bring him here." Turning around, the older man folded his hands before him. "Mr. Spencer, I want to hire you."


	2. Chapter 2

Shawn dragged his body into the office at ten after nine, yawning heavily and clutching a brown paper bag like a lifeline. Even though it was late for him, he'd still managed to beat Gus… by about fifteen seconds.

"You look like crap." As usual, Gus's observatory abilities made for fine afternoon drama in Shawn's book. He made sure to share that insight with his friend.

Gus set his sample case on the floor. "Shawn, did you have an argument with your dad last night?"

Shawn dropped into his chair, swiveling around and propping his feet up on the desk to stare at the ceiling. "Yes Gus, after you dropped me off last night at eleven thirty, I hopped on my bike and drove over to my dad's for the express purpose of engaging in verbal combat. And then we baked snickerdoodles."

Glaring, Gus sat down in his own chair and turned on his computer. "Whatever Shawn, if you aren't up to sharing, I don't plan to pry. Unlike you, I don't force my friends to reveal things they'd rather keep secret."

"I was hired by Alexander Dale Hutchins last night. He wants me to find the leak in his company."

There was silence for about thirty seconds. Shawn finally opened his eyes to see Gus gaping at him from across the room.

"Alexander Dale Hutchins? The same, Alexander Dale Hutchins, who was suspected last year in the attempted murder of his wife?"

"Ex wife…"

"The same Alexander Dale Hutchins that your dad used to tell us stories about when we were teenagers in order to keep us from joining the mob?"

"It's not like we were really going to…"

"The same Alexander Dale Hutchins who, according to an online blog, is suspected of running an illegal trade in software in exchange for drugs?"

"There's an online blog…?"

"No chance Shawn, no way! There is no way in hell I'm getting caught up in this one!"

Shawn sat up quickly. "Come on Gus, I need you! Don't you want to get out and do some good old-fashioned sidekickery?"

Gus pulled the cover of his laptop down to stare at his friend. "First of all, for these guys, killing people is one of the four basic food groups. I don't want to wind up sleeping with the fishies."

"Sleeping with the fishies…?"

"Second of all," Gus continued, ignoring Shawn's interruption, "I am not a 'sidekick'. The correct description for what I do here is 'Psy-assistant'."

Shawn wrinkled his brow. "'Psy-assistant'? Gus, what is a psy-assistant, and why would you want to call yourself that? And who says sleeping with the fishies?"

Gus flipped his laptop open again. "I'm not going Shawn."

Shawn stood, walking to the window and glancing out. "Well, Gus, see- this is the thing. We kind of don't have a choice." He winced as he heard Gus's laptop close behind him with a snap.

"No choice… wait, why did you say 'we'? Shawn, I never agreed to this!"

Turning back to his friend, Shawn hugged his arms at the elbows. "Yeah, see… I kind of said I couldn't work without your help."

"Shawn!"

"Oh come on Gus! It's just a guy who wants to hire us, and offered to compensate us very nicely."

"Shawn, he's a mob boss."

"Technically, he's CEO of a very lucrative software manufacturing plant who may have made some unwise choices to get where he is now."

"Technically he'll kill us if we don't agree to help, right Shawn?"

Shawn dipped his head. "Technically you could be right… but only if we try to talk to the police."

Gus dropped his hand away from the phone where he'd been preparing to do just that. However, before he could even take a step away from the phone, it rang. The two friends stared at each other. On the third ring, Gus stepped forward. "I'm going to answer that."

Shawn raced him to the phone. "Gus, are you crazy!"

Gus fumbled forward, his hands wrapping around the smooth plastic. "Isn't that my line?!" Grappling, the two fought for the receiver, knocking into the desk in their haste to grab the phone. In a final mad lunge, Shawn managed to get his fingertips around the base, only to send the phone skittering across the table and onto the floor. It landed hard, but didn't break. As it clattered to a stop, the two men held their breath. It didn't ring again. Breathing in relief, Shawn bent to retrieve the unit when he heard a tinny voice sound from the speaker.

"_Hello? Mr. Spencer?"_

He crouched, looking over his shoulder and whispering through his teeth. "It's Vick!"

Gus crouched next to him, also whispering. "Pick it up Shawn!"

"_Hello? Mr. Spencer, are you there?"_

Shawn glared at Gus. "You pick it up!"

Gus glanced at him, then shrugged, grabbing the phone. "Okay."

Shawn grabbed for the unit. "No, wait!"

"This is Mr. Guster speaking, how can I help you Chief?"

Shawn jumped up and down in agitation while Gus listened to the chief, a frown appearing on his face. "Uh huh… uh huh…"

Shawn walked back over to him, half reaching for the phone. "What does she want?" He mouthed expansively. Gus placed his hand over the mouthpiece. "She has a job for us!" He whispered roughly before turning back to the phone.

Shawn shook his head rapidly, but Gus merely turned his back. "Of course Chief, I'll tell him. We'll be right there."

As soon as Gus punched the off button, Shawn grabbed the phone. "What do you mean, we'll be right there!? Did you miss the part of our prior conversation where I mentioned contacting the police would make us dead?"

Gus took the phone back, setting it back on its base. "We didn't contact her, she contacted us."

Shawn dropped into his chair. "And I'm sure our new employer will easily make that distinction. Look, Gus, these guys are seriously…. seriously, serious about this."

Gus wiped at his brow, which, Shawn noted, was sweating profusely. "Well what do we tell the Chief? I already agreed we'd take the job."

Shawn waved his arms. "I don't know… call her back and tell her I'm sick… say I, uh… got a case of… oh… psychic rabies."

Gus's brow furrowed. Without responding, he picked up the phone again and dialed. After a moment, his face brightened into his 'talking on the phone to a customer' expression. "Hello Chief? It's Gus again. I'm sorry to have to tell you, but Shawn seems to have developed a nasty…"

"Rabies!" Whispered Shawn fiercely.

"Cold," Finished Gus, ignoring his friend. I'm afraid he's going to be unable to help out today." Gus continued smiling benignly as he listened to what was, no doubt, a very disappointed response. "Of course Chief… I'll do what I can to ensure he gets well. Alright then… bye bye."

Shawn looked at his friend with a nauseous expression as Gus hung up. "Uuugh, do you kiss your mom with that mouth?"

Gus dropped heavily back into his chair. "Shawn, what made you agree to take this job in the first place?"

Picking up a mini basketball, Shawn tossed it back and forth in his hands. "You mean, besides all the perks, like use of a company vehicle, dates with a supermodel, and, oh yeah, getting to live?" Shawn bounced the ball a few times. "Though come to think of it, dating a supermodel would probably be enough on its own…"

Giving up, Gus propped his elbows on the desk and leaned his head on one hand. "So, now that we're all committed… do you actually have any leads on this so-called leak? Or were we just going to depend on your special gift to lead up to the perpetrator?"

Shawn crossed his arms. "Okay, first of all, kudos on using the word 'perpetrator'. Secondly, here." Reaching into the jacket he'd draped over the back of his chair, Shawn retrieved a small envelope. He tossed it to Gus, who eyed him dubiously before opening it.

"It's a list of names."

Shawn spread his arms. "You see? Half my work is already done!"

Gus stuffed the paper back in the envelope. "You do realize if anyone on this list actually is the leak, our finding them is going to get them killed."

Shawn bounced the basketball off the wall as he responded. "Gus, I'm hurt that you would think I'd treat another human life so lightly. Of course we aren't REALLY going to find someone. I figure we snoop around a bit, ask a few questions, and then… Oh my gosh!" He grabbed his forehead dramatically, dropping the ball, "I'm seeing, cops, lots of cops… they're descending on the warehouse! Something, it's so hazy…. They found out…."

He heard Gus sigh loudly, then stand to walk to the door. "I need a break. Let me know how it ends Shawn…"

"Just a second Gus… there's an aura… something dark and sinister…"

"Shawn!"

Shawn looked up, about to berate Gus for halting the beginnings of a brilliant vision, and stopped cold.

"Wow, you really are good." Said Brody softly. In his hand was his pistol, sporting a very illegal silencer. It was pointed at Gus.

"My employer would like to see you again…. Both of you."


	3. Chapter 3

One thing Shawn could say about this second car trip- at least he was awake. Gus sat close enough to him on the leather seat that Shawn could feel his leg shaking. Or, maybe it was both their legs. The nervousness wasn't helped by the fact that Brody kept his gun locked on them the whole trip. Shawn had tried to get the other man to lighten up as they were loaded into the limousine. However, the click of the hammer on Brody's gun was enough to stifle further conversation.

The trip shouldn't have taken that long. It became quickly apparent, though, that the driver had been instructed to take the scenic route. Whether it was to throw off anyone who might be following them, or to confuse Shawn and Gus, it was hard to say. Shawn considered suggesting that such deceptions wouldn't work on a psychic, but a glance at Brody's expression killed the impulse. Finally, they arrived. The destination turned out to be an empty lot. Someone outside opened the limo door, and Brody gestured for the two men to exit. Outside, another limo was waiting, along with Hutchins, and two other men Shawn didn't recognize. Looking at the two vehicles, Shawn couldn't help it.

"Guys, come on. You might as well have a sign saying 'Bad guys meeting here, B.Y.O.B.'"

"Shawn!" Gus looked horrified, and Hutchins smiled.

"Do you think we're bad guys, Mr. Spencer?"

Shawn glanced at Brody, who's right hand thumb was absently spinning a gold ring while his left gun hand held steady. "You did kidnap us at gunpoint."

The older man laughed loudly, and the two men beside him smiled. Brody, as ever, looked on with a face of stone. Both Shawn and Gus managed weak chuckles, but soon sobered as the laughter died away. Hutchins, still smiling slightly, folded his hands in front of his slender waist.

"Mr. Spencer, as you know, I am a very successful businessman. You also know that I've had to sacrifice much in order to get where I am. I expect no less from my colleagues, my employees… or anyone else whom I choose to hire."

Shawn swallowed dryly, not liking at all the turn the conversation was taking. "Listen, I just started- I swear I'll get you some information as soon as…"

Hutchins held up his hand. "Oh, I know you will. I'm not worried about your abilities; I've seen your record. I am, however, concerned there may be a slight conflict of interest considering most of your work is done for the SBPD. I want to be sure I have your utmost loyalties. So to ensure this, I'm inviting someone important to you to stay with me during your investigation."

Shawn gaped for a second. Beside him, he could hear Gus whimpering slightly under his breath. Shaking himself out of his stupor, Shawn raised his hand. "Wait, wait… you can't! I uh… I need Gus to… uh… help, clarify my visions! You know, it all comes out like gibberish unless Gus here can decipher them!" Shawn glanced at Gus, whose lower lip was starting to quiver. Leaning closer, Shawn elbowed him sharply. Glancing once to the side, Gus quickly pulled himself together.

"That- that's right sir! Shawn and I are… um, psychically linked!"

Hutchins regarded the two men silently for a moment. Finally, he turned to the two men next to him. One of the men was speaking into a small receiver. At a glance from his boss, the man gave a single nod. Shawn frowned slightly, but before he could digest the odd exchange, Hutchins had turned to face them once more.

"Mr. Spencer, I would never do anything that would hinder your abilities. You and Mr. Guster are free to go." So saying, the older man turned to re-enter his limo. Then, pausing, he glanced over his shoulder. "Don't let me down son."

After that, he and the other two men got into their limo and drove off. Gesturing with his gun, Brody urged Shawn and Gus back into the other limo. "You know dude, saying please works wonders for future relationships."

Walking into the office once again, Shawn shook his head.

Something felt off.

Gus brushed past him, heading swiftly to the bathroom. Sitting down at his desk, Shawn picked up the suspect list. He didn't really need to look at it, having memorized it already, but he needed to do something. Something was jumping around in his mind, and he just couldn't seem to get a handle…

"_I'm inviting someone important to you to stay with me during your investigation"_

Why take both of them… why not just take Gus….

"Oh my god…"

Gus was just coming out of the bathroom when Shawn stood quickly, grabbing for the phone. He dialed rapidly, then waited, drumming his fingers.

"Shawn?"

Two rings, four… nine…

"Dammit, answer…"

After fifteen, Shawn slapped down the phone. "Gus, come on!"

Still sputtering questions, Gus followed him out.

The door wasn't locked.

Shawn entered slowly, eyes going everywhere. Gus was right behind him, his breathing loud in the silence of the living room

Glancing toward the kitchen, Shawn noted that the pan of eggs had been cooked, then moved to the side to cool. Two pieces of bread stood in the toaster, waiting to be heated. The fridge door stood open.

"Dad?"

Gus glanced down the hall, then went back outside. Shawn was checking for messages on the phone when Gus returned. "His boat's still here."

Shawn nodded, already realizing the worst. There were no messages on the phone, save the one he'd left fifteen minutes ago. Hanging up again, he walked to the dining room table and sat down heavily. He stared down at the surface, his expression tight. "Gus, they took my dad."

Gus stood nearby, his face worried. "Are you sure? I mean, what if one of his buddies just came by and picked him up for poker?"

Shawn shook his head. "Can you imagine my dad leaving his kitchen like this? We're talking about the guy who made us sweep our tree house once a week." Shawn lifted a piece of paper from the table, holding it out to Gus. "Besides, they left a note."

Gus took the paper, looking at Shawn nervously before letting his eyes drift to the writing.

**_ Forty eight hours_**

Gus frowned. "This is a note? It doesn't say they have your dad…"

Shawn stood, taking the note back. "Did you happen to notice the letterhead?"

Tilting Shawn's wrist, Gus looked again, actually paying attention to the logo at the top of the sheet. "A.D.H."

Shawn dropped his hand and walked towards the door. "I need to get back to the office."

Gus followed him quickly. "No Shawn, what we need to do is talk to the Chief!"

Shawn whirled, his face tight with fear. "Are you trying to get my dad killed? Or us? These guys aren't playing around. Now the only way we're going to help him is by figuring out who this leak is." He turned back to the car, sliding into the driver's side. Gus dropped into his own seat, his hands shaking slightly as he clipped into his seatbelt.

"And how are we supposed to do that without getting that person killed?"

Shawn started the car, then put a hand on the back of Gus's seat as he backed around. After the car was turned, he gunned toward the main road, his hands clasped tightly on the wheel. "I'll think of something. Right now, I need to figure out who that person is to begin with."

Gus folded his arms. "Great. Good plan Shawn. Considering our only lead is a suspect list, how do you suppose we start? Are we going to talk to each of these people? Because I'm pretty sure they'll all want to shoot us if we try."

Shawn took the next turn a little fast, and Gus squawked as he was thrown against the door. "Shawn!"

Ignoring Gus's indignant shout, Shawn pressed down on the gas a little harder. "Actually, the first person I plan to talk to isn't on the list." At Gus's questioning look, Shawn offered his friend a small smile. "Why not talk to the most likely person to hold a grudge on Hutchins?"

Gus stared a moment longer, and then his face suddenly cleared. "The wife."

Shawn offered his fist, and Gus grinned as he presented his own for a celebratory bump.

As Shawn dropped his hand, his face sobered again. He'd never admit, not even to Gus, that the only thought on his mind had nothing to do with the woman they were planning to question. Right now, a steady mantra- almost a prayer, was rolling through his brain.

_Hold on Dad…_


	4. Chapter 4

It had started out as a very good plan. Talk to the wife. How hard could it be to find the former wife of very well known businessman? Apparently, it was harder than could have been anticipated. Who knew she'd forgone a simple restraining order, opting instead for the full package which included HBO, Cinimax, and a new identity? Although, had his mind been less concerned with whomever his father was currently pissing off, Shawn might have considered that possibility. Regardless, he still took some time out to stomp an innocent garbage can into the shape of a crumpled soda can. Wiping a hand across his brow, Shawn dropped to into his chair. At the other desk, Gus was re-reading the article they'd found, his own brow wrinkled in concentration. Leaning forward until his elbows rested next to his laptop, Shawn dropped his face into his hands.

He tried to concentrate.

The sounds around him were familiar… and very loud. He could hear the hum of the mini fridge, the intermittent tapping as Gus worked the keyboard, the muted sound of traffic, and the soft hush of the ocean. Slowly blocking the distractions, he raised his head a little; eyes closed, and touched his fingers to his temples. He's done that for so long, he wasn't even fully aware of it anymore. If asked, he'd likely say it was a Zen thing. In reality, the touch to his temples seemed to ground him. It was a familiar action, and it caused him to instantly focus. The sounds around him, though still present, slipped out of his thoughts. He saw images dart across the inside of his lids, out of sequence and hazy at the edges_. Hutchins, a gun, Henry, glaring eyes, forty eight hours, Gus, a newspaper article, Brody, a gun, a ring, a gun, a gun…_

"Gus!"

Gus jerked sharply, knocking several papers and an empty plastic cup to the floor. "Crap Shawn! What!"

Standing quickly, Shawn practically leaped at the other desk, toppling his chair and sending even more clutter to the floor. Gus protested as Shawn pushed him away from the laptop. Ignoring friend, Shawn scrolled to the top of the page Gus had been reading. It was an achieved article from MSN. The headline stated: **"Former Wife of CEO, ****Alexander Dale Hutchins Hospitalized After Near Fatal Shooting"**Shawn wasn't interested in the article however. Instead, he stared at the photo. The picture was grainy, and the poor resolution on the screen didn't help. However, it was good enough to make out her hands, folded neatly in front of her face, in what must have been a Glamour shot. On her left hand, an obnoxiously large diamond ring refracted the light, casting small prisms on her cheek. But it was the other hand Shawn was interested in. Much smaller and partially hidden, a gold ring circled her finger. Though reduced in size, he could still see the two tiny hands, folded around a tiny gold heart. A fleur de lis capped the top.

"Shawn?"

Shawn turned his head, his eyes wide. "It's a Claddagh ring!"

Gus frowned. "Are you sure?"

Nodding, Shawn looked back at the screen. "Yeah! Stacy Henderson gave me one when we were dating!"

"Shawn, you dated Stacy Henderson for three days when she caught her boyfriend cheating on her."

Shawn smiled slightly. "Actually, it was a week, and then her boyfriend broke my elbow when he threw me off the third row bleachers."

Gus looked back at the screen. "But what difference does it make? Her husband probably gave that to her."

Shaking his head, Shawn tapped the screen. "No. This was no gift from him. She had a lover." At Gus's questioning look, Shawn pointed to the top of the ring. "Look at the way the crown is facing."

Gus leaned in, squinting at the screen. Then his eyes widened. "It's upside down! Shawn…"

Shawn was already headed for the door. "Come on Gus, we need to-"

Shawn threw himself to the floor as their window suddenly exploded. Thousands of glass shards blasted across the room, imbedding themselves into fabric, leatherette, and various parts of Shawn's body. Gus was screaming, which Shawn found annoying because it was even louder than his own screams. This went on for longer than Shawn would ever admit, but he finally managed to stifle the sounds coming from his inner, very terrified, child. Gasping, he looked across the floor at Gus, who seemed offensively undamaged. Rolling to his back, Shawn winced at the tiny pinpricks on his hands and face. He pulled in a few more breaths, coughing at the smell.

"Shawn, that was a damn hand grenade Shawn!"

Shawn coughed again, trying to sit up without acquiring more glass in his person. "Thank you for that observation Chuck Norris." He saw Gus preparing for a retort, but stopped him with an upraised hand. He could hear footsteps. "Damn it!" He hissed under his breath. Gus looked back at him, mouthing a response.

'_What?'_

Shawn gestured for Gus to back away. Then the footsteps stopped, several feet away from the building. Shawn swallowed, a horrible realization freezing his gut. His eyes wide, he stumbled upright, ignoring the small stabs in his palms as he pushed off from the floor. Running crouched, he grabbed Gus's arm in passing. As soon as he was away from the window, he pelted for the back door. Gus made a sudden intake of breath as Shawn wrenched open the rear exit. As he started to push Gus ahead of him, Shawn heard the sound of something hit the floor in the main room, bouncing heavily. Three steps… five… ten…

Dead silence.

The air behind him seemed, for just a second, to suck backward.

A thunderclap of force erupted behind them, pushing them into the lot behind the building. The sound was immense, overwhelming. And then Shawn screamed in earnest as something white hot and solid embedded itself into the back of his thigh. Carried forward by momentum, he limped madly as he tried to stop. Gus was still trying to run forward, likely thinking Shawn's cry had been one of fear. Gripping his friend's sleeve, Shawn stumbled, then fell heavily, dragging Gus to a halt. Gus turned, trying to help him up. Then, his eyes moved past Shawn's shoulder, and widened as they focused on his leg. "Oh my god…"

Biting his lip, Shawn squeezed his eyes shut. "Giv- give me the n-news doc. I'm preg… pregnant, aren't I.." Exhaling quickly, Shawn reached back, but stopped as the movement twisted his leg. Gasping at the burning pain, he held his upper body off the ground with his elbows. Charred rubbish was still raining down, mostly paper and pieces of roof tiles. Gus was breathing fast, and Shawn looked up at his friend, noting the ashen complexion and beads of sweat on his upper lip. "Dude, please don't throw up on me."

His words seemed to jar Gus back into focus. "Shawn, we gotta get out of here. Can you stand? Cause I sure as hell don't want to carry your ass…" In spite of his words, Gus's eyes were wide with fear and concern. They had only moments before whomever had blown up their office would come looking for them

Nodding sharply, Shawn grunted as he dug his fingers into Gus's arm and shoulder. With the help of his friend, he managed to pull himself upright. Standing on his right foot, his body shaking violently, he breathed out quickly. "Come on, I can do it."

Gus wrapped a hand around his belt, while his other hand gripped the hand Shawn had draped over his shoulder. A glance over the shoulder, and then Gus was half- dragging him towards the slight embankment just beyond the dumpster at the back of the building.

"We need to get to get to the car…"

Shawn groaned. "We can't, you always park in front of the building. Even if the car wasn't trashed in the explosion, it's still out of reach."

Gus swore. "How the hell are we supposed to get out of here! We can't exactly walk to the station from here!"

As they crossed to the next building, Shawn clenched his teeth. "We can't go to the st-station Gus! And anyway," he looked up, actually managing a smile, "we don't need to walk."

Gus looked up then too, and apparently saw what Shawn was looking at. He paused for just a second before hurrying the two of them forward. "Dude, your neighbor is gonna kill you."

Shawn's leg screamed at the pace, but he couldn't resist a response. "He's both our neighbor, and since you're coming with me, your head will share a spike with mine."

Whatever retort Gus had was drown out by another, smaller explosion behind them. Gus jerked, bowing his head. "What..?"

Shawn gasped as they finally stopped next to their neighbor's company van. "P- probably the gas line…"

Gus helped Shawn lean against the van. Then, he started scanning the ground around him. Shawn frowned, keeping an eye fixed on the flames rising from where their office had been only minutes before. As Gus kept searching the asphalt, Shawn slapped at his sleeve. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to find a rock, or a pipe… maybe a brick…"

"Dude, he has a hide-a-key under the rim by the rear right tire."

Gus vanished around the side of the van. Moments later, he returned, a small black box in hand. Quickly sliding off the plastic cover, he grabbed the key and opened the front door. With escape so close, Gus's hands started to shake with apparent panic. Shawn felt the emotion was justified, particularly when he noticed the hazy shape emerge near the spot where he'd been impaled. "Gus…"

"I got it Shawn…" A small circle dented into the side of the van near Gus's head.

'_Silencer'._

"Gus, get in the van! He's shooting at us!" Gus yelped, grabbing Shawn's arms and manhandling towards the door. Shawn bit off a scream at the renewed pain, and somehow pulled himself inside. Dragging his leg across the driver's seat was much, much worse. Panting harshly, he swore as he dropped to his stomach on the floor between the seats. No way was he going to even attempt sitting. He heard several pings as more bullets struck the side of the van. A spider web of cracks shot out from an impact on the side window. The front door slammed shut, and the engine squealed as it turned over. As one more bullet hit the door, Gus wrenched down the shifter and slammed his foot on the gas. The van lurched as they pealed out of the lot. A few more bullets struck the back doors, then stopped. No doubt the shooter was hoofing it to his car.

As the floor beneath him shook and vibrated, Shawn had to fight sudden nausea. Lying on his stomach on the slowly heating metal was beyond uncomfortable. However, the alternative was impossible. Shawn heard a click, and glanced up to see that Gus had snapped on his safety belt. Gus seemed to feel his gaze, and looked down. "I'm going to the hospital."

Shawn actually tried to rise, before strangling back a sob. "Gus…"

"I'm going to the hospital Shawn!"

"We can't Gus- if we do, they'll…"

"Shawn, you have a foot long piece of wood as big around as my wrist sticking through the back of your leg!"

Shawn paused, failing again to look over his shoulder. "No kidding?"

Gus's eyes were back on the road as he continued, not acknowledging Shawn's words. "I need to get you to the hospital. And we need to call Vick."

Shawn shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut again. "We can… can't go to the hospital."

"Shawn…"

"Dammit Gus! Just listen to me! If we go to the hospital, they'll put me in surgery. That will probably take eight or more hours. We already wasted a day. If we take any more time, they'll," he swallowed, inhaling through his nose, "they'll kill dad."

"Well what do you want to do Shawn! You can't walk, and your body could go into shock any time! If you don't get treatment, you'll…"

Shawn looked up as Gus broke off. His face was tight, and his eyes seemed to be fixed on the rear-view mirror. Gus didn't speak, but Shawn already knew what had happened.

The highway was no longer empty behind them.

There was only one option.

He really didn't want to say it, but they had no choice. "Gus, call Vick…." another stab of pain, another twist of nausea, "…and tell her to bust out the pineapple cause we're bringing over company."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Is this the real life, **_

_**is this just fantasy**_

_**Caught in a landslide**_

_**No escape from reality…**_

The side view mirror shattered and Gus jerked his hand back quickly. Blinking sweat out of his eyes, Shawn desperately wished he could do… anything; preferably without moving from his current position. The bare metal of the floor was becoming unbearable again, and Shawn quickly reassessed his previous thought. He tried to push himself up again, but before he could even rest one elbow down, the van jerked across a patch of rough road, throwing him back onto his chest. The motion also jarred the rest of his body, and he pinched his lips together tightly as shadows danced in his peripheral vision. In the next moment, though, Shawn couldn't hold back a guttural scream as they slammed across what must have been the Grand Canyon of potholes.

"Shawn…"

"….guh… never… nevermind… just a little…. light torture…"

Gus didn't respond, but the van accelerated a little more. By Shawn's estimate, they had about ten more minutes before they arrived at the station. They were already entering a more populated area; he heard horns blaring as they flew through what must have been crowded intersections. Gus had to be operating on pure luck, but any moment could mean tragedy… and Shawn was fairly certain their pursuer would not care who was injured or killed.

Suddenly Gus swore, and Shawn felt the van shudder as they scraped past something large and apparently metal by the teeth-jarring squeal. He looked up to see his friend, eyes wide and sweat rolling down his cheek. Apparently sensing his Shawn's gaze, Gus darted his eyes to the side. "UPS truck- parked too far out…"

Whether because of traffic, or because he was worried about an accident, Gus eased back on the gas.

Shawn bit his lip, then pushed out a heavy breath. "He still behind us?"

Gus glanced over again, then checked his rear view mirror. "I can't tell… damn it!" The van jerked again as Gus swerved sharply. He was obviously driving next to the median, because the van felt like it was climbing a small mountain as the wheels rode up the side. Correcting back, Gus eased the vehicle down again, his eyes blinking rapidly.

"That was too close…"

Shawn didn't ask what, exactly, had been too close. Instead, his concentration was focused on a particular sound. It was muffled, but growing slowly more distinct.

"Gus…"

His friend was gripping the wheel in an iron-like grip. His eyes stared unblinkingly ahead. Shawn wouldn't be surprised if he started screaming any time.

"Gus!"

The other man jerked, as though he'd forgotten Shawn had even been sharing the van with him.

"Shawn… what…"

"Slow down."

Shawn had to give him props. Gus's expression was the perfect blend of incredulity and that look that said he thought his best friend had cracked his nut…. again. Shawn raised his brows. "I'm not delusional… much…. Gus, watch the road..!"

Gus whipped his head back around, swerving with a curse as he, obviously, narrowly avoided another accident. The pissed off honking seemed to back that up. Still staring ahead, Gus opened his mouth, likely to question Shawn's reasoning, when he tilted his head.

"Shawn… I can hear…"

"Sirens? Yeah… gotta give Vick credit. She seems to love us more than she lets on."

In seconds, the sirens could be heard surrounding the van, and Gus gradually rolled to a stop. He was still glancing nervously in the side mirror, but at Shawn's questions, managed to confirm that their pursuer seemed to have broken off the chase.

Rather than attempt to see what was going on, Shawn finally gave into his agony and dropped his head back to the floor. He just wanted to rest… just for a second…

0o0o0o0o0

"…ncer…?"

_Vague sounds echoed softly…_

"…ster Spencer…?"

_A reddish glow hovered to the side, and he tried to turn his head away…_

"Mr. Spencer?"

Shawn blearily forced open his eyes, blinking at the light that flashed across his vision. Something rustled, and he turned his head to see a human-like shape leaning towards him. The light flashed again, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Mmm… ssskinda bright…" He muttered, rubbing wooden fingers over his face.

He felt a hand grasp his own, and he opened his eyes again, his vision clearing as he stared at the face above him. Karen Vick stared back at him, her eyes filled with concern. Behind her, Shawn could see a nurse putting away a small light before walking around the Captain to examine his leg. Turning away from the nurse, Shawn started to open his mouth when the Captain spoke.

"Why the hell didn't you call us?"

Shawn blinked, registering the urgency of her tone. Something was wrong, and several seconds passed before he suddenly opened his eyes wide.

"Dad! Captain, my dad…. What time is it!"

The Captain put her hand against his shoulder as he started to flip back the hospital blanket. He would have fought her, but his movement jostled his leg, and he was suddenly breathless as fire lanced through his thigh.

"Shawn…"

His eyes were squeezed shut, but he held out a hand to stave off Gus, whom he could hear moving towards him. He could feel the hands of the nurse on his leg, holding it steady.

"Listen folks, if he gets agitated, I need to ask you to leave…"

"Gus, what time is it…" Shawn ground out through clenched teeth, ignoring the nurse.

"It's fifteen after ten."

Shawn's eyes shot open. _That wasn't Gus…_ Looking over, he saw Juliet. Her face showed a level of anxiety he hadn't seen since the incident with Alice Bundy at the asylum.

Her words sank, and Shawn tried to fight upright again. This time, the nurse placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down.

"Okay, that's it. Shawn needs to relax, and he isn't going to be able to if you don't go now."

Shawn lifted his head away from his pillow, staring at Gus, who still hadn't moved. "We only have a day and half…"

Gus nodded. "We have time…"

Shawn suddenly felt heavy. As the nurse walked around the foot of his bed, he realized she must have activated his pain medication. He kept his eyes locked on Gus, trying to get his message across even as his consciousness was bleeding away. And then the nurse was hustling everyone from the room, and sleep claimed him.

0o0o0o0o0

_A gun…_

_Folded hands…_

…_. The window… glass flying…_

_Fire… _

_running… _

_pain… _

_pain…_

He clutched at his side, bunching material in his fists. Something was beeping. He heard a door open… hands holding his wrists…. Voices spoke rapidly, anxiously…

He tried to see what was happening through slitted eyes… There was movement all around… people in white and green… a vein of heat rushed through his arm….

Shawn's body gradually relaxed as the drug flooded through him. He could still hear the medical staff, their voices flowing over him in a disconnected way. He was vaguely aware that his body felt as though it were floating… encapsulated in suffocating warmth.

His head throbbed.

He heard the word infection… but didn't relate it to himself. Sometime afterward… he didn't know how long… the room was empty once more.

His hands were slack.

His breathing was calm and measured.

He sank down into the softness of his bed, and slowly…his mind fell back into its previous state…

_He could hear footsteps behind him… muffled in carpet…_

_Something struck him… _

_Waking to a smiling face…_

…_a gun… leveled at his chest…._

_Folded hands…_

…_something gleamed… a dull gold sheen…_

…_a window shattered… tiny daggers of broken glass…_

… _a perfect dent… a tiny hole…. A shot taken without a sound…_

_Folded hands…_

_Hands on a gun…_

… _a dent on a metal door… It almost struck Gus…_

…_.folded ….hands…_

When he snapped awake the second time, Shawn reached to his side, grasping the call button almost before he opened his eyes.

He had to talk to Gus.

And he had to get out… before it was too late.


	6. Chapter 6

_**All these little things in life they all create this haze  
There's too many things to get done, and I'm running out of days **_

It couldn't have been a long wait, but the time it took for the nurse to arrive seemed like an eternity. Shawn must have hit the call button about fifty times before she pushed through the door. He started to sit up as she walked towards him, but she pushed him back firmly.

"Hold on… just relax. Do you need to use the restroom?"

Shawn propped himself up on his elbows. "No I don… actually, yes I do… but I need to talk to my partner, Gus, first- I need to get out…"

The nurse frowned, checking Shawn's vitals. "I'll help you to the bathroom, but I'm afraid a jailbreak is above and beyond. Besides, it's three in the morning, I have a feeling Gus won't thank you for that, partner or no."

There was a definite thread of panic coiling in the back of Shawn's throat. "Just let me…" he paused, pulling his voice out of the higher register, forcing calm,"Just let me call Gus. It's urgent… I have to talk to him…" Though he was speaking slower, there must have been something in his eyes because the nurse seemed to tense.

"Mr. Spencer, I'm going to ask you to relax just one time. Don't force me to call a doctor in here, because he'll probably recommend we strap you down."

Shawn swallowed. "Wow, any other time and I'd be all over that…"

Apparently not amused, the nurse crossed her arms, frowning deeply. "Mr. Spencer…"

"Not your scene, I totally understand. Look, here's the thing… Gus and I are really close… really, really, close." He paused, waiting for that look of understanding. After a moment, the nurse's eyes widened. _'Gotcha.'_ He thought, burying a smirk. "I sorta felt… you know… anxious when I woke up all by myself. I suppose I just panicked."

That disconcerted look was still in the nurse's eyes, but she placed a hand on his arm compassionately. "If you can wait just a few more hours, I promise I'll dial the phone for you myself… alright?"

Still frantic, but hiding it well, Shawn allowed the nurse to think she'd convinced him. "Okay… you're right. I had a bad dream… and I just missed him…" He looked up into her eyes, pulling his most innocent expression. "You think I could get that walk to the bathroom?"

Appearing to relax, the nurse finally smiled. "Okay. But take it slow… those pain meds are strong, but your leg will still hurt a bit."

Shawn nodded as he sat up. Sliding his feet to the floor, he didn't have to pretend to be in pain as he hobbled towards the bathroom. The nurse walked at his side, supporting his weight as he limped across the cold linoleum. Shawn felt bad, he really did. However, he really didn't have a choice either. They were only steps from the door when he suddenly twisted out from under the nurse's arm. Biting back a groan, he pushed her through the door and slammed it shut, immediately bracing his back against it. She was strong, he had to give her credit. The first hit from the other side almost dislodged him.

"Mr. Spencer, open this door now!"

Her screams were bound to draw attention, even muffled through the door. Knowing he couldn't brace the door forever with his body, Shawn scanned the room for anything… ah! Another strike jarred his leg, and he bit his lip as he felt himself sliding. She stopped for a second, likely to gather her strength. Using that moment of time, Shawn lunged for one of the chairs just a few feet away. The door was partially open when he slammed against it again, earning even louder cries of rage. Sweat ran down his face, and his leg was in flames, but Shawn managed to wrench the chair in front of the door- propping it under the handle. He eased away, watching anxiously for a second until he determined the chair would hold. Then, feeling the whole time like collapsing, he struggled to the closet where his things were kept. His shirt was hanging from the pole, but there was no sign of his jeans. With a sinking feeling, he realized they must have been cut away by the hospital staff. That sucked, he'd been told they made his ass look great. Thankfully, his wallet was still there in a box, along with a handful of change and a few crumpled singles. Next to the box sat his badly mistreated sneakers. Grabbing his clothes, wallet, and money, Shawn made his way to the door. Peering out cautiously, wincing at the shouts from the bathroom, he eyed the hallway. Nobody in sight thank God. He knew it wouldn't last. Unless his neighbors were comatose, they'd start pressing their call buttons to alert staff to the strange noises.

He only had moments.

Sliding out of the room, he hopped to a door across the hall. Squinting through the small window, the occupant inside seemed to still be asleep. Thankfully, the nurse's shrieks were a lot quieter outside the room. No doubt this would nix any plans he might have had for asking her out…

One more glance down the hall, and Shawn fumbled into the room. The snores of the room's single occupant were one of the most calming sounds Shawn could have hoped to hear. Using the wall to hold himself upright, he made his way to the closet. Inside, he found another shirt, and a box of personal items. But better yet, was a pair of pants. He made a face at the oversized brown lycra blend… but now wasn't the time to play Timothy Gunn. Quickly shedding his hospital clothes, Shawn pulled on his torn, and in some places, scorched, shirt. He paused at the pants, feeling a twist in his gut at what it was likely to feel like to pull them on. Then he thought of his father, and any possible discomfort was brushed to the side. He didn't really have a choice.

It was worse than he'd imagined.

He didn't scream, but he couldn't hold back the small cries that made it past his teeth. It took almost ten minutes of methodical struggling to finally pull the pants up to his waist. When he finished, he leaned heavily against the wall, shaking with pain and fatigue. The drugs, though dulling, were definitely working against him right now. Blinking away sweat, he glanced at the rolling table where he'd set his shoes. There was no way he'd be able to get those on… not without passing out. Besides, he was pushing his luck as it was. Hopefully he could get out without the staff realizing he was barefoot.

Taking a few deep breaths, Shawn squeezed shut his eyes and pushed away from the wall. Oh… it hurt. The ten steps back to the door seemed like ten miles. Ten miles of nauseating heat that radiated down past his knee, and up through his groin. When he finally reached the door, he grabbed for the knob and held it tightly. He was starting to worry he might not succeed after all…

'_Shawn, you never finish a damn thing…'_

Oh perfect, now his memories were lecturing him too.

Biting his lip, Shawn lifted his head to scan the hallway again. About three yards away, a nurse walked down the hall and turned a corner. Waiting until he was sure she was gone, Shawn finally eased out of the room. He listened intently for a moment, but there was no sound. Apparently his nurse had either lost her voice or given up. Promising himself that he'd buy her two dozen roses and a pair of magnetic kissing bears once he resolved his current crisis, Shawn limped and stumbled for the elevators at the other end of the hallway.

0o0o0o0o0

The great escape from the hospital was actually rather anti-climactic. There was only a single nurse on duty at the station downstairs, and she was lost in the music coming from her I-Pod. Creeping past her desk, Shawn's only other obstacle was the pair of guards near the front doors. That actually took some finesse. Adopting an agitated expression, Shawn stumbled up to the pair. "Hey, hey guys!" The two guards were startled at being addressed out of the blue. One of them actually dropped his hand to the butt of his gun.

"Woah, ease up there Gregory Peck…" The guard relaxed, dropping his hand as he looked Shawn up and down.

"Is there something we can…"

"Yeah," interrupted Shawn, gesturing behind himself. "Some idiot is screaming next door to my room, and I can't find anyone to check it out! I've been hitting my call button for like, fifteen minutes!"

The guards shared a look, then started towards the nurse's station. "Wait here, we'll have one of the staff check it out. What room did you say you were from?"

"Two thirty four."

The moment the two guards turned away, Shawn pushed through the doors. Moving as fast as he was able, he cut around a parked ambulance and headed for the bank of trees lining the parking lot. He'd barely made it around the first trunk when he heard a shout. Bracing himself against the tree, he leaned to the side, looking back the way he'd come. One of the guards was looking back and forth in front of the hospital entrance. After a moment, he held his radio up to his face and walked back inside. Breathing with relief, Shawn closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He rested for only a moment. Then, steeling himself, he dropped his chin. Pushing away from the tree, cursing the uneven ground, he made for the bank of payphones, dimly lit by the overhead sodiums, at the other end of the parking lot.

0o0o0o0

Gus was not happy to be woken up at three forty-two in the morning, Shawn could tell.

"Dude, if I had more cash on me, I'd have called a cab. As it is, they don't accept video rental cards as payment."

Gus clenched the wheel tighter.

"Gus, I'm sorry, I just didn't have another choice."

Apparently 'sorry' had an effect, because Gus's shoulders dropped and his face softened. "No, forget it." Making a sharp right, Gus headed back to his apartment. As he drove, Shawn interrogated him on what he'd told Vick. Pretty much everything it turned out. After they'd been rescued by the Captain, Shawn had been taken immediately to the hospital. The surgery had taken eight hours, during which they'd removed a fourteen inch chunk of wood from his left thigh. They'd actually had to cut the wound larger to remove the foreign body. There was concern that infection could develop. Shawn winced when Gus reached that particular part of the story. By the look on his friend's face, it was affecting him even worse. Shawn decided to keep to himself what he'd thought he'd heard earlier that night. Whether the wound was infected or not was a moot point right now. He'd deal with it _after_ his father was safe and sound and ridiculing Shawn for taking so long. Gus was glancing at him, and Shawn realized he'd stopped speaking a few moments ago.

"How you feeling? You look pale."

Shawn shrugged. "I'm great! Though I do feel a little like Bo Derek in 'Orca'." He probably would have been more convincing if his voice hadn't cracked at the end of his sentence. Gus glanced at him again, then gasped as his eyes went to Shawn's leg.

"Dude, you're bleeding!"

Shawn looked down, and saw a patch of blood the size of quarter soaking through the top of his pants. "Shit." He muttered darkly. He should have known all his activity would aggravate the injury. He probably tore out half his stitches with all his lunging around.

"It's more likely from the drainage tube."

Shawn frowned at Gus's words, replayed the last few seconds in his head, and realized he'd spoken out loud. Looking back at his friend, he saw that Gus had that familiar sick look again. Actually, Shawn couldn't blame him. In all honesty, the realization that he had a tube sticking out of his leg under all the bandages was just… gross.

They were pulling up to Gus's apartment, and Shawn grabbed for the door handle. "I call bathroom!"

Of course, being a true friend through and through, Gus promptly left him at the car and dashed for his front door. Shawn couldn't blame him though, he'd have done the same thing.

0o0o0o0

The plate of braised duck and sautéed mushrooms had congealed hours ago on the fine china plate. The goblet of wine was untouched. The water glass, on the other hand, had been drained to the last drop. The man sent to collect the dinner service hardly glanced at the uneaten meal. Instead, he held his gaze on the man by the bed. When the man had first arrived, he'd sworn himself hoarse at anyone within earshot. Before he'd been forced into this room, he'd even managed to get in a lucky punch, breaking the nose of one of his captors. Of course, even then, the orders were to subdue him with minimal damage. However, if the stubborn bastard didn't want to eat, that was his problem. They only had to put up with him for one more day anyhow. Soon, time would be up, and they would escort their guest to an unpopulated area near the water. They each were allowed a turn with the instrument of their choice.

The guard with the broken nose had been promised the first strike.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Show me what it's like**_

_**To be the last one standing**_

_**Teach me wrong from right**_

_**And I'll show you what I can be**_

_-Saving Me (Nickleback)_

**0o0o0o0**

4:45am.

Gus's PC hummed softly. It had only taken moments to pull up the desired file, and Shawn was now in the process of scanning related topics- looking for anything else that could back up his hunch. Gus hovered over his shoulder, his hands resting on the back of the chair Shawn was currently occupying. So far, most of the images he pulled up were close-up shots of the couple engaged in conversation, shaking hands with the Santa Barbara elite, or stepping out of vehicles. The person Shawn was looking for was in most of the photos, but tucked in the back- his face grainy from poor resolution. The back of the chair moved rhythmically as Gus drummed his fingers on the leather. It wouldn't be long before Gus…

"Shawn, what exactly are you trying to find?"

Shawn clicked on another picture, this one taken on a long lens. It looked like a backyard function of some kind. Either way, it was about as clear as the Bigfoot video.

"I think I saw something that might solve this case… but I need something concrete…"

Gus let go of the chair and walked around Shawn's left side. "You know, you really should get someone to check that wound- it started bleeding again."

Shawn placed a hand over the injury, wincing at the heat he could feel beneath his fingers. "It's fine Gus… or… do you want to check it…?" At his words, he turned to regard his friend… whose face had taken on a familiar ashen appearance at the suggestion. Shawn turned back to the screen. "Or not."

"Shawn, the chief said they could handle this- we should let them…"

"No."

Gus crossed his arms, his face stony. "Look Shawn, these guys have guns. What do you plan to do… bleed on them?"

Shawn tapped a few more keys. "Gus, that would only work if I was fighting you. Besides, the police can't do anything."

Gus leaned his hands on the desk. "They can arrest Hutchins for kidnapping…"

"On what grounds?" Shawn swiveled the chair again, facing Gus directly. "They don't have any proof he did it!"

"What about the note?" Gus countered. "It had his logo on it."

"So? Anyone could have gotten a piece of letterhead from his company. And do you think he would have left fingerprints on it?"

"What about our office! Or my car Shawn? And while we're on the subject, I don't think our insurance covers explosions!"

Shawn tried to stand, and immediately regretted it when Gus suddenly doubled. He'd been sitting too long. As the circulation came back in his legs, he dropped back and dug his fingernails into the arms of the chair.

In the back of his head, something hummed…

0o0o0o0

He must have blacked out for a moment, because when he opened his eyes again, something cold was resting on his forehead, and a blanket was pulled up to his chin. He realized his hands were shaking. Glancing around, he finally saw Gus, already reaching for the phone.

"Wait… don't call anyone!"

Gus jumped at his coarse shout, then rushed to his side. "I'm calling the hospital, you have a fever… and I've never heard you scream like that before…"

Shawn's brow furrowed. "I screamed? … Gus… was it a little girl scream?"

When Gus didn't immediately answer, Shawn felt just the smallest twinge of concern. However, now was not the time for that. The only person Shawn had time to worry about right now was the cranky old man currently being held hostage by his employer…

Talk about job motivation…

"Gus, we need to keep looking. Let's try another search…"

The other man folded his arms tightly. "No way Shawn, have you seen yourself lately?"

Rather than state the obvious, Shawn simply tilted his head, raised his brows, and shot Gus a look that clearly said 'are you serious?'

Gus responded by going into full-on stubborn mode. "I'm calling the Chief, and we're driving you back to the hospital."

Shawn sat up, gasping, but pressing forward. "Dude, you're the one who broke me out… What, now you're gunna turn me in again?"

"As I recall, Shawn," said Gus, dropping his arms, "You broke yourself out, and then coerced me into helping you escape…"

"Coerced…?"

"And," Gus continued, "you were the one that _**told**_ me to call Chief Vick when that lunatic was shooting at us… AND, you were the one that agreed to help Hutchins in the first place!"

Shawn sat still for a moment, his finger tips pressed together lightly. After a second, giving Gus just a fraction of time to think he'd won, Shawn leaned forward. "I know who the shooter is."

Gus stared at him a moment longer. Then, with a suppressed growl, he kicked his desk. "And when were you planning on divulging that, the next time we were shot at?"

Smiling, Shawn gestured to the computer. Caving in, Gus grabbed the back of Shawn's chair and wheeled him back to the desk. Tapping a few keys, Shawn pulled up a picture they'd examined earlier. It showed Hutchins getting into his limo, surrounded by cameras. Shawn pointed to a figure just to the left of Hutchins. Gus leaned in closely, then gaped in recognition. "No way."

"Way dude." Said Shawn, rubbing the sweat from temple. Gus continued to examine the photograph.

"Shawn, why would…"

"… He do something so monumentally stupid as risk getting on Alexander Dale Hutchins's bad side?" Finished Shawn. "Obviously it was for the perks."

Tapping another key, Shawn pulled up one more image, the close-up Glamour shot of Hutchins X-wife. "Remember her?"

Gus chuckled, glancing sideways at Shawn. "Uh uh…" He shook his head, unable to suppress a short laugh. Shawn grinned widely, tapping at the screen.

"Goes a ways toward explaining why Hutchins wanted her dead."

Gus's smile slowly faded as he looked back at Shawn. "Maybe… but… Shawn, why do you think he and she were… you know…"

Shawn pointed at the screen again, at the right hand curled beneath her chin. "I saw the companion to that ring on his hand. The only problem is, without something to back it up… a photo, or some other evidence…"

Gus held up his hands, his face a mixture of amazement and badly hidden humor. "You're saying the Great Shawnini needs actual evidence to convince the cops?"

Shawn didn't return the smile. Instead, his face tightened as he leaned back in his chair. "Gus… I… I can't take any chances… this time." He didn't say anymore, but Gus's expression made it clear that he didn't need to.

"Sorry Shawn… I…" Gus's voice faded as a strange look crossed his face.

"What... you look like you have gas. Are you gassy Gus, cause I feel nauseous as it is…"

Gus was already at the computer, typing swiftly. "Hang on, I just thought of something."

Shawn tilted slightly, staring at the back of his friend's head. "Gus, we don't have time to check your MySpace…"

Gus moved to the side so Shawn could see the screen better. It _was_ a MySpace page... but not the somewhat plain one sporting Gus's face and underscored by "So It Goes" that he'd been expecting to see. Instead, it was a lavender page, with a picture of a sunset in the profile box. The name "Gem" identified the account. Shawn glanced up at Gus, managing a grin despite his discomfort. "Gem? As in Samantha Newark singing for the Holograms, Gem? Gus, I had no idea you liked that cartoon!"

Gus frowned. "First of all, that Gem was spelled with a 'J'. This Gem starts with 'G', as in Gemini. Gem is the blogger I told you about… the one who posted suspicions about Hutchins' illegal drug trade…"

"Right, right, right… the infamous blogger. Look, Gus, I know you're crushing on her, obviously, since you're her only friend besides Tom, but I doubt she'd…"

Shawn suddenly sat up, wincing, but needing to see the screen more clearly. "Holy crap… Gus, this woman… listens to Whitesnake!"

Gus glared at Shawn, who'd slumped back in his seat again, still smiling. "For your information, she asked me to be her friend."

"And for your information, I still have more friends than you." Answered Shawn smugly.

Snorting, Gus shook his head. "At least my friends aren't all teeny-boppers and members of your psychic friends network."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Oh please. You know, you could probably boost your hits if you'd write something other than pharmaceutical stats in your blog."

Clamping his teeth together, Gus turned back to the screen, than raised his brows. "Speaking of blogs, it looks like she just updated hers." He leaned over to click the notation titled "Deadline", and after a brief wait, the screen popped up with the latest entry.

It was short.

Shawn's smile vanished. "Oh my god… Gus…"

Gus, also in shock, read slowly. "Final entry. Chromatic Gate, 5:30am. Good luck Gus."

0o0o0o0

0o0o0o0

0o0o0o0

If there are those of you that don't know, Shawn and Gus actually DO have their own MySpace pages!

Shawn:

http://profile. 


	8. Chapter 8

_**A little taste of hypocrisy  
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake  
Slow to react  
Even though you're so close to me  
You're still so distant  
And I can't bring you back**_

_-With You (Linkin Park)_

_--_

He was so tired.

His leg didn't even hurt anymore. Well… not as much anyhow; he hardly noticed the slight rumble under his seat. Outside the car, in spite of the early hour, the traffic was already starting to fill the streets. The overhead lamps doused everything in a yellowish haze, accentuated by the crystalline fog that rolled off the water; all in all, the perfect atmosphere for cloak and daggerish activity. Shawn had to give Vick credit- the little vehicle they currently drove wasn't bad for a loaner. Though it was obvious the Buick had seen some action judging from the distinct bullet holes in the frame and rear windshield. He'd have to thank her the next time he saw her.

The hum inside the vehicle was soothing, and he felt his head dipping towards his chest. Surely Gus couldn't fault him for taking a brief nap while they drove could he? It had been a long, and at times, excruciating night. His head hurt, his arms felt like logs, and he was pretty sure, given the taste, that he'd ingested a Wookie at some point in the last twenty-four hours. He really did deserve a break. As they passed beneath intermittent street lights, Shawn squeezed his eyes shut. Even their soft light was enough to send painful spikes through his skull.

He just wanted to sleep.

Through his closed lids, he could hear Gus's fingers tapping restlessly on the steering wheel. And though he couldn't see it, Shawn was certain he felt Gus's eyes pass over him every now and then. He wanted to make a joke, to berate his friend for his ceaseless worry. But, for the life of him, he couldn't think of anything that combined the right balance of cutting sarcasm and spontaneous hilarity. The best his tired mind could produce was something that had to do with parking so they could make out in private. However, that sounded wrong, even to him. Instead, he opted to shift himself more comfortably against the seat. They had to be getting close, and Shawn wanted to rest as much as possible before he was forced to leave the car.

Seven minutes later, Gus angled the small vehicle towards an open parking spot on the street. Though still dark, they could easily see their destination.

"Dude, I still don't get this sculpture." Commented Shawn as he dragged himself from the Buick. The movement was enough to remind him that he was still injured, but he grit his teeth and adopted an unconcerned look as Gus reached into the back to retrieve the crutch he'd stashed there; an old one that, ironically, Shawn had used in high school when he'd twisted his ankle while impersonating Kevin Bacon from "Footloose".

Gus's reply was slightly muffled as he tugged the crutch from where it had become wedged. "Shawn, the Chromatic Gate is a tribute to the arts. It's a significant landmark, and unique to Santa Barbara. It represents creative passion."

Shawn tilted his head, squinting at the brightly colored arch. "It's a square rainbow."

Gus didn't respond. Instead, he wrenched the crutch loose, shut his door, and walked around the front of the car to hand it to Shawn. Still holding on to the frame of the car, Shawn hopped slightly as he worked the crutch under his arm. He was both irritated and grateful that Gus didn't leap to help him. He wasn't a complete wuss after all. Though, he thought to himself, he wouldn't mind giving into wussiness if it meant he wouldn't have to struggle across that lawn.

Regretfully, he didn't have a choice. Obviously an X-Files fan, their 'Deep Throat' contact insisted on this ridiculous meeting place. Shawn realized he needed to more closely monitor whom Gus decided to befriend online. His musings fled as he suddenly cursed; the rubber knob on the end of his crutch hitting a slippery patch of grass and nearly shooting out from under him. Wobbling for just a second, he got himself under control before he could make an embarrassing face-plant into the ground. Gus had stopped walking to grab his arm, and Shawn made a face as he cautiously straightened.

"I really hope that wasn't dog doo"

Gus smiled as he released Shawn's arm. "Not a chance. Besides, I would have warned you long before we reached it." He said, tapping his nose.

Shawn rolled his eyes as they started forward again. "Of course, the 'super smeller'. Heaven forbid I forget to acknowledge your amazing appendage."

Gus's smile was far too smug in Shawn's opinion. "I'm sorry, was that jealousy?"

"Yes, Gus, I'm jealous of a sense of smell that can detect dog crap from five miles away." Shawn nearly stumbled again, but was once more steadied by Gus, whose face had lost its jocular expression.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're sweating again…"

Shawn forced his hand to stop shaking where it gripped the handle of his crutch. Though he'd felt fine in the car, his awkward forward momentum was nearly intolerable. Any residuals of his medication were gone at this point, and just being upright was agony. But he also couldn't afford to let Gus know that. Shawn was actually surprised his friend had allowed him to push himself this far. Under normal circumstances, Gus would have slipped something into Shawn's food or drink and busted him back to the hospital. Shawn had done that himself when Gus became unreasonable… though Gus had been neither sick nor injured the times he'd done it…

In any case, nothing that was currently happening could be considered normal. And the fact that Henry's well-being depended on them following through might have something to do with Gus's reluctant aid.

Shaking his head, Shawn brushed away Gus's hand. "No problems, just a gopher hole or something. Hey, is that your mystery date I see up ahead?" Not waiting to see if Gus believed him or not, Shawn clenched his teeth and started forward again. After just a second, he heard Gus fall in step beside him. The other man didn't say anything, but Shawn could feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of his head. Choosing to ignore it, he took a final few wobbling steps, and came to rest beneath the vibrant metal structure. Gus stopped as well, slightly behind Shawn. Whether it was to catch him if he fell, or to use him as a shield, Shawn wasn't completely sure. At any rate, he didn't care so long as he could find out about his father.

Their contact was slender, from what could be seen of her body through the long coat. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, and Shawn could tell from the texture that it was a wig. Her eyes were partially hidden behind thick glasses, but Shawn suspected these were also fake. She stood with her back pressed tightly against the sculpture. As the two men approached, she backed in even tighter, looking around herself intently. Her voice was husky as she spoke.

"Were you followed?"

"Why yes, yes we were. You didn't see the nine dancing monkeys and the cast from 'Happy Days' behind us? They can be a noisy bunch, but I asked them to keep it down." Shawn responded irritably before Gus even opened his mouth.

The woman met his glare fiercely, and half-stepped into his personal space with her hand fisted tightly. "Do you think this is a joke? Do you have any concept of the risk…"

"I know exactly what the risk is!" Whispered Shawn with barely masked outrage. "My dad was taken by these people- and I only have a few hours left before they…" He paused as his voice wavered. Then, tightening his jaw, he jabbed a finger at the woman. "Meanwhile, you're wasting time with this undercover bullshit! You know, a phone call is a lot quicker and more reliable than sending an invite through MySpace!"

She shrugged, suddenly controlling herself as she slid back to the structure. "You're here aren't you? And do you really think I could make an unmonitored phone call? These guys may be egotistical bastards, but they do know how to rig a pretty effective wiretap."

Shawn and Gus shared a look while the woman dug through her pockets until she located a half finished pack of cigarettes and a lighter. A brief glow appeared at the end of the paper tube as she sucked in her first drag. As she exhaled, Shawn waved his hand in front of his face, smothering a cough. After her second pull, she dropped her hand to her side, flicking the tiny amount of ash from the tip of the smoldering stick. Exhaling an acrid breath, she studied Shawn closely.

"It was never supposed to go this far, I hope you can believe that."

Shawn stifled his desire to challenge her, to point out that they didn't have time for the idle chatter she tried to play off as guilt. He knew if he picked a fight, he might risk losing whatever information she might have for them. He didn't comment, he didn't even frown; but he did start tapping his fingers against his leg.

She seemed to get the point, for she dropped the barely smoked cigarette and crushed it out with her heel.

"I don't know if Gus showed you what I posted. Probably not considering you haven't asked how I came by such knowledge…"

"You're Mandy Hutchins, Dale Hutchins x wife."

"How did you…"

"Psychic. Also, who else would know that much about Hutchins activities, or have the motive to use it against him?"

Mandy blinked through her heavy lenses. The tiniest smile tugged at the corner of her lip, though it wasn't a happy expression by any means. "What else have you heard? We'll go through this more quickly if I don't have to share what you already know."

Shawn shifted his feet on the concrete, narrowing his eyes as he studied the woman. Her clothes were neat, though slightly rumpled- she must have dressed hurriedly. A few pointy looking crumbs rested on the lapel of her coat. She wasn't carrying a purse or bag, which meant that everything was in pockets. Judging by how long it had taken her to locate her cigarettes and lighter, there must be a lot to dig through. Her rings were both gone, that in itself, of significant note. And her normally manicured, long nails were chewed to shreds.

Foregoing the usual theatrics in favor of keeping his balance, Shawn settled for the basics of resting his right hand fingertips against his temple. "You're under a lot of stress, I feel… you haven't slept in two… no, three days. You've barely eaten, but you managed to grab a quick taco on your way here…"

Mandy snorted derisively. "Not bad, but not much better than a Vegas act. You haven't impressed me yet… _psychic_."

Shawn dropped his hand, staring at her directly. "After you divorced Hutchins, he sent an assassin after you. The man failed, not for lack of skill, but because you'd been sleeping with him. This same man had been providing you with information about Hutchins activities. However, after his attempt on you, you broke all ties. You took what information you had, and ran. You needed to tell someone, but not the cops. They'd failed to protect you before, and you didn't trust them. Who else to go to? You created an online blog. You knew about a certain gifted psychic, but also realized his many forays into the spiritual realm could distract him from seeing your posts. Instead, you decided to impose yourself on the psychic's best friend. From studying this friend, you discovered he had a capacity for listening. It didn't take long to catch his attention. The blog you posted about Killer Drugs was a particularly nice touch. You took a risk with your post tonight. You were gambling that recent events would prompt Gus to visit your site."

Mandy shrugged. "Like I said, it worked didn't it?" She smiled tightly, cramming her hands back in her pockets.

"What about my dad?" Shawn asked roughly, the fingers of his free hand clenching in barely suppressed fear and adrenaline. His psychic act had been performed out of habit. The entire time, his heart had been ramming through his chest. The pain in his leg had also grown steadily worse. The longer he had to try to weasel information, the more his agitation continued to grow. His dad had long ago taught him never to hit a girl… mostly because he'd been beat up by girls in the past. But he was seriously considering sicking Gus on her.

The woman was looking down, actually appearing sorry. "I don't know where your father is. I truly wish I could tell you… but…"

"Why the hell did you bring us out here then!?"

"Shawn…"

"Dammit Gus, I'm sick of this! I came out here, agreed to meet you at this stupid location, because I thought you might actually be able to help me!"

Mandy clasped her elbows, glaring back at him heatedly. "I have information about Hutchins! What I have on him could bring him down; it just needs to get out…"

"I don't care!" Hissed Shawn, swaying a little. "If we can find my dad, alive, we can get him on kidnapping!" Shawn wavered again, and clutched his crutch tightly. He felt Gus grab his arm, but he ignored it as he stared down the woman in front of him. But Mandy was no longer speaking. He looked back at her and his brow furrowed. She was almost frozen in place, her expression fixed as she stared absently to the right. Shawn was about to question her when she spoke.

"The Factory." Her voice was hushed, giving the impression she wasn't aware they were standing next to her any longer.

"What?" Asked Gus softly.

Mandy looked up, her eyes oddly bright. "The Factory. At least, that's what Alex called it. He bought it right before our divorce. He claimed he was going to convert it into a nightclub or something."

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut, feeling dizzy. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He felt her hand suddenly fasten on his arm, and he opened his eyes again in surprise. "What are you…"

"He never built the nightclub! In fact, he told the papers that he decided to resell the property to an outside buyer!'

Shawn still looked at her blankly.

"Don't you get it? He never sold it, I'm sure of it!"

Shawn's eyes widened. "You think my father might be there…"

She nodded, and began digging through her pockets madly. "Here, I'll even write down the address…"

Shawn shook his head impatiently. "Don't… just… Look, just tell me what it is, I won't forget."

0o0o0o0

The walk back to Gus's loaner seemed to take forever. He was in agony, and the heat from his wound was spreading. He was pretty sure that meant something bad, but he didn't have time to ponder it at the moment. Half-stumbling the last few steps, Shawn dropped heavily into his seat while Gus hurried around to the driver's side door. After clambering in, his friend glared at him hotly. "It's getting worse Shawn- you should have told me!"

Shawn's head rested heavily against the seat-back. He never thought he'd be this grateful to be inactive. "It's merely a flesh wound." He responded quietly. Rolling his head, he regarded Gus curiously. "You didn't start the car yet. Do you really like hanging out with me this much? Dude, I'm totally touched right now! And I mean that in a good-touch kinda way…"

Foregoing a response, Gus clamped his lips together and faced forward again, shoving the key in roughly. The car wouldn't start. Muttering under his breath, Gus tried again, pumping the gas a few times in frustration. Shawn thought to tell him that would only flood the engine, but changed his mind as something flashed behind their car, followed immediately by the sound of a thunderous explosion. Whipping his head around, and regretting it, Shawn gaped at the fireball rising swiftly into the sky.

Right where they'd walked Mandy to her car.


	9. Chapter 9

_**And we went into a tailspin and crashed into a hillside**__**  
**__**And the plane exploded in a giant fireball and everybody died**__**  
**__**Except for me**__**  
**__**You know why?**___

_**'Cause I had my tray table up**__**  
**__**And my seat back in the full upright position**__**  
**__**Had my tray table up**__**  
**__**And my seat back in the full upright position**__**  
**__**Had my tray table up**__**  
**__**And my seat back in the full upright position**_

_- __**Albuquerque, WEIRD AL YANKOVIC**_

0o0o0o0o0o0

* * *

"Gus…"

"Yeah Shawn…"

"Is your hand on your door handle?"

"Is yours?"

"I asked you first."

"Yes, Shawn, yes it is…"

"Count of three?"

"You know it."

"One…"

"…two…"

"THREE!!!"

The doors of the rental car burst open as Shawn and Gus hurled themselves from the vehicle. They wrapped their hands over their heads, lying on either side of the car and… and nothing happened. After a beat, Shawn raised his head. "Um… Gus?" From the other side of the vehicle, he could hear the rustle of someone standing.

"Shawn, it didn't explode."

Dragging himself to his feet, Shawn gripped his still open door tightly, his stomach rolling sickly. "Well considering how far we got that's probably a good… thing…" He paused, his eyes focused on the front of the car.

The hood wasn't shut all the way.

"Gus?"

His friend was brushing off his slacks irritably. "Yeah."

Shawn watched a drop of condensation roll down the hood of the rental and join a larger patch of water near the vents under the windshield.

"Could I borrow your shoulders for a second?"

Gus straightened, holding his keys in a loose grip. "What about that crutch I got you?"

Another bead of moisture rolled down the hood.

"I really don't think there's time for that."

Gus must have seen something in his expression, because he cursed loudly and darted around the back of the car to slip his shoulder under Shawn's arm.

"We should run."

It was bizarre really, almost surreal to feel that pounding oppression. Everything was so quiet… all he could hear was the sound of their combined breaths and their uneven footsteps as they hustled jerkily across the grass. He felt something cold run down his leg, and realized the bleeding was getting worse. It was agony. He stumbled, and Gus tightened his grip. They were almost back to the sculpture again… that stupid sculpture that stood for the sanctity of art and passion… or whatever. The stub from the discarded cigarette was still smoking weakly on the concrete beneath it. Off to the right, some kind of night bird trilled softly, adding to the ridiculousness of their flight.

Gus started to slow. "Shawn… this… is really… stupid…"

Shawn, his leg on the verge of buckling, was starting to agree.

They managed to make it about three more steps.

And then everything went white.

0o0o0o0

In retrospect, he probably should have seen it coming; and not just because he claimed to be a psychic.

Obviously they had been tailed. Just as obviously, the tailer had been more interested in taking out Mandy then themselves; which was why they hadn't acquired new ventilation on the way to their meeting. A bomb in the car was almost a guaranteed hit. If Mandy had seen them gunned down in front of her, she'd have run the other way, fast.

Shawn dropped his head. The Chief was never going to loan them another car as long as they lived. He hoped she had insurance.

The light from the fire had faded to a soft glow by this point. The flickering reflections of the police units and fire trucks cast a brighter light. Someone had apparently called 911 after the first explosion, because the blare of the fire trucks had echoed down the street three minutes after the Buick disintegrated.

As of yet, neither he nor Gus had approached the crowd.

It had really taken some work to convince Gus to agree with him. He was barely able to hold back his responses to the torment in his leg. The strain must have been showing on his face, because he almost had to hold Gus down to keep him from shouting out to the rescue crews.

If he went to the hospital now, his father would die.

And Gus knew that.

The trouble was, Shawn also knew his ability to walk was fast becoming impossible.

Which only left one option.

The only reason he hadn't used it yet was because he'd been wracking his brain for a way to keep Gus from being a part of it. But that, too, was also becoming an impossibility.

And there just wasn't any more time.

"Gus… I need to borrow your phone."

0o0o0o0

It took two hours for the police to finally finish processing the scene and take away the blackened vehicles. In that time, Shawn had drifted in an out of a dull stupor, the heat from his leg spreading through his body. Gus had forced a few aspirin into him, but it was akin to throwing a bottle of water on a house fire. Eventually, the last of the cruisers pulled away from the curb and headed back to the station.

Ten minutes later, their ride showed up.

It took two large men to pull Shawn upright. With each arm locked in a vice-like grasp, he was dragged, torturously, across the dew-flecked grass. When Gus made a furious protest, he paid for it with crushing blow to his jaw.

Shawn barely remembered the car ride.

0o0o0o0

The rug in the office was different.

Hutchins greeted them cordially enough, offering tea… and in Shawn's case, a glass of stiff brandy. They declined both.

Shawn felt sick, but it wasn't all due to his injury. What made his stomach churn, made him want to vomit… was the realization that he'd caused a man's death.

Even knowing he'd had no choice wasn't enough of a consolation.

Because of him, Brody was dead.

Granted, the man had been willing enough to butcher Gus and himself. He'd not shirked away from pulverizing his former lover either. If he hadn't named him, Brody would have been the one picking them up from the park. And yet… and this was the worst part, he was convinced his father would have found a better way.

That, more than anything else, was what tore at him. And he felt like a failure.

"I did what you asked. And judging from the change in décor, you've dealt with the problem. Now where's my father?"

Hutchins smiled benignly. To Shawn, it looked like a badly masked grimace.

"Oh, he's near. I assume you'd like to see him?"

On the couch next to him, Gus swallowed in fear, his hand still held to his swelling jaw.

"Let Gus go first."

"Shawn…" He ignored the panicked whisper, keeping his eyes locked on Hutchins.

"Let him walk out, without an escort- and then we can get my dad."

The older man chuckled, pouring himself a glass of the brandy he'd offered earlier. "The problem with this arrangement is… you no longer have anything to bargain with." He took a deep sip, then set the glass on the edge of his desk.

Shawn smiled. "You should know, you weren't the first person I called tonight."

The smirk on Hutchins' face faltered, and he folded his arms with practiced nonchalance. "Oh is that so… had a bit of a chat with your friends did you? Now Shawn, that was unwise. The deal was, no police involvement. A shame you can't keep your word. For you, and your father."

Shawn's smile widened. "Not from my perspective. You do realize we met your Ex tonight… don't you?"

The look of worry barely glinted in his eyes, but Shawn saw it. He saw it.

"I was not… ahhh, I do remember though- there was an explosion mentioned on the news, but they weren't able to identify the body… Oh, Mandy, what a terrible shame." His expression said the opposite, but that was hardly unexpected.

His position on the loveseat was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, but Shawn didn't have the energy to straighten. Instead, digging his fingers into the cushion beneath him, he focused on the man in front of him. "Did you ever wonder what happened to that list of clients? You know, the one you kept under the secret panel in the right bottom drawer of your desk?"

Hutchins had just lifted his glass to take another sip. At Shawn's insinuation, his hand clamped down on the clear crystal, shaking so hard he spilled half the warm-toned liquor on the floor. Setting the glass down with a hard _clack_, he strode to the loveseat, his jaw clenched tightly. Standing over the younger man, he flexed his fingers in agitation.

"What about it?"

Forcing a bored expression, Shawn folded his hands in his lap. "Mandy knew about that drawer too. Too bad you don't know where she lived. The thing is… the cops do… and you have about, oh… fifteen more minutes before they show up with a warrant."

It warmed his heart to see Hutchins' hand shaking. The man stepped away again, stopping to confer urgently with his associates.

Gus leaned over, whispering fiercely. "Shawn, she never did tell you where she lived, how did you know…"

Shawn turned his head, whispering back just as adamantly. "I saw her checkbook when she was digging for a piece of paper to write down the address for the Factory. She'd changed her name, but…"

He broke off as Hutchins approached him again. "Alright, alright, you have me over a barrel… much as I'm loathe to say it. I'm assuming you have something to offer… considering I'm still holding dear daddy…"

Shawn shrugged. "Ehh, not really. Gus, you got anything?"

His friend dug in his pockets, pulling out a small wrapped package. "I got a peppermint… you're welcome to it if you like."

Hutchins was livid, his eyes wide with incredulity. "Are you lunatics? One phone call and you'll never buy another Father's Day card!"

Gus and Shawn shared a look, both wrinkling their brows. Shawn turned back, tilting his head. "Never buy another Father's Day card? Seriously? You have met my father… old, bald, a little too obsessed with fishing…"

Hutchins pivoted on his heel, heading for his desk. Shawn coughed in his hand before he was halfway there. "You know, you may want to consider calling your lawyer instead."

The look he received was priceless, and it only got better with the sound of a wooden door crashing in as uniformed officers filled the room.

"SBPD, SBPD! DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND GET YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! I MEAN NOW! MOVE IT AND LOSE IT PAL!"

Hutchins, hands clasped over his head, stared in disbelief at the man on the loveseat. Shawn smiled in response, one hand holding the edge of the seat tightly while the other fist bumped with Gus.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I say the cops would be here in fifteen minutes? Actually, I meant five. My bad."

0o0o0o0

They had found Henry an hour ago, right where Mandy thought he'd be. Two of the men holding him had been killed before they were able to get to him. As for Henry, he hadn't been hurt. Not surprisingly, the first thing he did was ask about his son.

He almost bit off Lassiter's head when he was told the kid was in the hospital.

When the police had stormed Hutchins' office, Spencer and Guster had been sitting calmly on a small sofa. At first, it was hard to tell that something was even wrong. But then, between mocking at Hutchins and asking about his father, the young man's eyes had suddenly rolled back in his head. When one of the officers felt his pulse, he'd been shocked by the heat radiating off his body.

They called for an ambulance immediately.

On the way to the emergency room, his heart stopped. It took two tries with the paddles to bring him back. Lassiter would have gladly kept that bit of trivia from Henry, but the man had a way of forcing people to talk. He must have been something during an interrogation.

Once at the hospital, Henry joined Gus in the waiting room. Lassiter, meanwhile, had to leave again almost immediately. Much as he was concerned about the aggravating psychic, he had a suspect to grill. And, at the moment, he was in the perfect mood to bust balls. And with the evidence they'd found at the x-wife's house, Hutchins was going away for a very long time.

The thought almost made him smile.

0o0o0o0

Shawn woke up in a sweltering, dreamy haze. He felt blissfully numb all over, like he'd bathed in Novocain. His mouth felt cottony, and he worked his tongue around a few times to make sure he hadn't been eating a Kleenex. He rolled his head to the side, amused at how wobbly it felt. Blinking slowly, it occurred to him that he might be high. Following immediately on the heels of that observation, it occurred to him that he really didn't care.

A fuzzy, blobby figure detached itself from the wall to his right and floated in front of him.

"sshhhhAAAAwwwNNN…."

He giggled at the way his name sounded… like someone was messing with the reverb settings on a piece of recording equipment.

Something touched his head… it was either a hand or baseball glove. He seriously suspected the latter. Either way, it tickled. He giggled again.

0o0o0o0

Soft light tickled at his lids.

He felt smothered, and tried to kick at the substance wrapped around him, but his body ignored him. The air felt muggy… swampish. He wanted to move his head, but lost interest before he could try.

His teeth started to chatter.

0o0o0o0

Too many shapes…

They blurred sickly as he tried to focus on them.

He felt himself jerk, and something was shoved in his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but clamped his teeth on it instead.

His back arched, and something blared shrilly.

And then it faded away again.

0o0o0o0

The baseball glove was back again, pushing the hair off his forehead.

He turned his face towards it, and let the current pull him under.

0o0o0o0

It looked like his dad… the shirt was a peach one he recognized. But why was he talking to Tiger Woods?

And why couldn't he stay awake long enough to get an autograph?

0o0o0o0

The floaty sensation from before had mostly left him. His body felt slightly cooler, and, best of all, his leg didn't hurt… much. He tried to move his head, but stopped when a hand touched his brow.

"Thank God… it's finally going down…"

He thought he recognized the voice… but he just wasn't sure.

He felt heavy weights dragging at his limbs. He started to open his eyes, wanting to see the person next to him… _needing_ to see the person next to him.

But the weights pulled him under.

With hardly a protest, he sank into oblivion.

0o0o0o0

Some unknown hours later, Shawn awoke again.

Something beeped steadily beside him, and he was relived that his mind was actually able to identify the sound. Small fragments tickled at the back of his mind from the previous… hours? Days? He had a vague memory of something hot and thick crushing him… and something brushing across his head.

His mouth felt sticky, and when he swallowed, he grimaced at the sore throat.

Something moved in the room, and a rough palm smoothed his forehead.

"Hey kid."

He blinked, grateful when his eyes obeyed. The fuzzy edges faded quickly, and the form of his father took shape next to him.

"About time… I was starting to think we'd have to sell your apartment."

He frowned, the emotion behind the voice didn't mesh with the jibe.

His father no doubt recognized his expression of bafflement as he spoke again. "Shawn, you've been mostly unconscious for over a week."

He'd been what now…?

He forced a dry chuckle, his voice high-pitched and unsteady as he responded. "Oh great… you know what this means? I missed Ultimate Fight night."

His father didn't smile. Instead, he sat heavily in a chair next to the bed and rubbed at the flesh between his eyes. "Look, Shawn, I don't know if you realize it… but you almost died… twice."

Shawn swallowed, looking down at his blanket. Something flickered in his mind… rapid beeping, feeling his body go stiff, and… and the rest was just not there.

He shook away the memory, not liking the implications. Then something else flitted through his mind, and he turned back to his father in puzzlement. "Dad… I know you think I'm out to lunch… and I may have just hallucinated it… but were you asking Tiger Woods to show you his backswing at any point?"

Henry, unexpectedly, barked with laughter. "Shawn, that was Gus… I was telling him about a trip I was planning to go bass fishing… Tiger Woods…. He's going to like that…"

Shawn closed his eyes. "Of course, why talk golf when you can discuss the finer points of out-witting slime-coated water dwellers."

Henry's smile faded, and he looked down at his folded hands. "Look, Shawn… I know that…"

Hunching his shoulders, Shawn shook his head. "Dad, you are not allowed to bring up deep and intense discussions when I'm trapped in a bed in a semi-inebriated state. It's cheating."

For a horrifying second, it looked like Henry was debating the issue. Then, with an indulgent smile, he nodded. "Fine… I'll let you win this time, but only because the game is about to come on. But you and I are going to talk about this once you're out of here."

Shawn nodded. "Not a chance."

Flipping on the room TV, Henry scrolled until he found a station broadcasting hockey.

Shawn sighed heavily. With any luck, he'd pass out before the hat trick.

0o0o0o0

**Six Months Later**

Shawn couldn't repress his grin. Even Gus was smiling, having finally stopped bitching about the loss of the Psychmobile. Though, that was probably due to the Chief helping him obtain a new Psychmobile… in spite of the foot dragging from the pharmaceutical company where he insisted on remaining employed.

They were standing in a parking lot… former home of the Psych Detective Agency… to take part in the unveiling of their brand new office- courtesy of the city of Santa Barbara- for their participation in implicating Alexander Hutchins. The client list was just the tip of a very large iceburg. There had been dozens of documents stashed throughout Mandy's house. Also, there had been the fact that he'd been involved with Henry's kidnapping… a former, and well respected member, of the SBPD.

He'd be lucky if he still had teeth by the time he could petition for parole.

The sun beat down warmly, reflecting off tinted car windows, eyeglass frames, and the glittered lettering on a large banner draped over the new office door that read, _**The City of Santa Barbara and the SBPD Thank Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster! **_

A large crowd had gathered in the lot, most of them faces he recognized, and some looked like people who were just hoping to get on the local news. He couldn't blame them… he'd been known to do the same. Though usually a lot more actively…

Chief Vick was standing at a podium, impeccably dressed, with a small microphone clipped to her lapel. Beside her stood several members of the SBPD, all in uniform. Amongst them were Lassy and Jules- whom, he noted, looked adorable in cop gear.

The Chief was wrapping up her speech, and Shawn realized he probably could have paid closer attention. No matter, he was certain he'd be hearing it repeatedly in the next several weeks… both Gus and his father possessed TIVO. And then she was walking towards him, a pair of giant gold scissors in her hand. Grinning, she handed them to him.

"Would you please do the honors?"

Handing her his cane, both he and Gus each took half of the scissors.

"Okay dude, one smooth motion…"

"I know how to use scissors Shawn!"

The ribbon fell away, and the crowd roared in applause. Someone released balloons, and the air was filled with rising green and white globes. Several cameras flashed as the two men waved to the media.

After a moment, holding Gus's arm for balance, Shawn leaned in close to his friend; whispering loudly in the pandemonium. His expression was serious, and he wanted to get this asked before Vick approached them again. The din was thunderous, but he was sure Gus could hear him. With a heavy breath, twisting his fingers around the metal in his hands, he swallowed his anxiety and plunged ahead.

"Hey, you think they'll let us keep the scissors?"

-END-


End file.
